Snail tale

The teeny weeny snail is responsible for a flood of memories. We were out for an evening walk & it had been raining all afternoon. The snails were out in full force, so it was our mission to try to avoid crunching them. My son couldn't understand why we shouldn't step on them because "they make a cracklish noise". Truth is, I have a soft spot for snails. They helped me to get revenge on a childhood friend.

My grandfather & I had an after-the-rain ritual of going out to a spot by the railroad to pick baskets full of snails. I'd line the baskets with damp leaves & grass, then transplant them to their new home. They'd hang around for a while, but eventually, after I'd been called in for dinner, the snails would have a pow-wow & make plans for evacuation. Obviously, by then time I'd be done dinner & make my way to the basket to check on them, they'd have made their way elsewhere. On the day I needed them to stick around (no pun intended), they understood their assignment & hung about until it was complete.

Tony C needed to be taught a lesson. See, his mother had purchased a pea-green 1980 Honda Hatchback. About a month later, my mom had purchased a horrible two-toned, brown & beige Pontiac Acadian. Tony accused my mom of copying his mom. I accused Tony's mom of being a slowpoke driver. Tony then said he wouldn't play with me anymore. Hmmph! Enter the snails.... To make my point about his mom being a slowpoke (and by no means did I think this was true - it was the only insult I could come up with at the tender age of 7), I decided to cover the C-family's Honda Civic in snails.

I got the reaction I wanted. I also got the responsibility of having to remove my passive pals from the family vehicle after word got out that I was the mastermind behind the stunt. Ashton Kutcher's got nothing on me.

Growing up too soon

At 10pm, last night, I picked up a recorded message from my daughter's school principal. The news was bad. Not "Your daughter clocked a kid" kinda bad. This was indescribably bad. A student in the school had died & families were being advised that there would be grief counsellors at the school over the next few days. I told you in was indescribably bad.

I mulled this over in my head for a while. How do I explain what's happened to my children? Will I frighten them if I try to explain this first thing in the morning, before school? I decided to let it play out on its own. I didn't have enough information to deal with the situation properly. Did my daughter know the student? Was it someone in her class? Was it an accident that occurred at school? Was the child ill? So many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, so I let it be. I filed it under my "to dos", to be handled after I had contacted the school for more information.

The receptionist only told me that the young boy was in the 4th grade. It happened at school. A note would be sent home to advise us of when the memorial service would take place. I didn't have the heart to ask any further questions. I'd find a way to explain this with the information I had...once I got home from work.

I asked my daughter how her day went, prepared to discuss the loss of a fellow student, but she beat me to it. "Mommy, it was a sad day today. A boy in my school died. Mrs. Peacock told us & we had a special guest come to tell about the boy who died." Her eyes were wide & full of question. She looked as though she needed to hear that even though this poor child was taken away far too soon, that things would turn out okay. I wasn't quite prepared to tell her that & fluff it over. No, she had been exposed to the fragility of life & there was no going back. I held her close & prepared myself to deal with an onslaught of questions, but there was only silence.

I still remember the first time I was exposed to death. I was the same age as my daughter & my cousin, who was only a year older, had passed away. I remember the tears & uncertainty. That day, I grew up a little. I remember that feeling & wish so much that I could protect my children from it. Sadly, I cannot. All the bubble-wrap in the world won’t protect them from the hurts to come. All the camomile tea in the world won’t sedate me enough to make it through this part of parenthood unscathed.

And through all these emotions & questions, I send my prayers of comfort to a family who lost their little boy...friends who lost a buddy...a school that will always remember the time a shadow befell it, one tragic March day.

A gay ol' time

Nothing ever really prepares you for the some of the questions that'll be thrown at you throughout the course of parenting your children. Today, I was confronted with a real doozy. I was asked to explain what "gay" means to my four (almost 5!) & three year olds. Oh dear.

My son & daughter were happily munching away on their blueberry Eggo Waffles when little brother ticked off little sister by informing her that it was his turn to watch Thomas the Tank Engine. She decided to hurl an insult back at him. I know she's not yet armed with an arsenal of witty comebacks like "you're momma dresses you funny". But she pulled one out of her hat & it came out like this: "oh yeah, well you're gay!" Hmmmm. Not good.

She refused to tell me where she picked up this this special little phrase. Certainly not in our home; we have many friends of varied cultural backgrounds & sexual orientation. It didn't come from us. I wanted to know who did it! I have an inkling...that horrible little kid who bit her arm last week. Must have been him. What angers me more is that she's in JK & only socializes with other JK students; one of them thinks it's okay to use the word "gay" in a derogatory manner - and his/her parents don't think it's necessary to correct this behaviour. Where's Nanny 911???

The inevitable happened.... "Mommy, what does gay mean? Why is it bad to tell someone they're gay?" Aw, c'mon!!! I haven't even finished my first coffee of the day yet. I didn't sign up for this. I thought we'd have this conversation toward the middle of elementary school, not now!

I used Ellen. Yes, I used Ellen DeGeneres. It went a little something like this: Well, gay is like saying you're white, black, Italian, Chinese, or straight. Mommy's gonna try to explain: Not all families are the same. Our family has a mommy & daddy as the parents; other families might have only one mommy or one daddy. Then there are other families that have two mommies or two daddies. Or sometimes a man & a woman love each other and don't have kids, right? Other times, two men or two women can love each other too. Then, there are other people who don't want to be with anyone & they like to be by themselves. All this was met with a blank stare. Okay, let's try this. Do you remember the Ellen show that we like to watch together? The one where we all dance around with Ellen? Eager nodding ensued. Okay, good. Well, Ellen is married to a lady instead of a man. And they love each other very much. So Ellen is gay. We like Ellen, don't we? She seems really nice & funny, right? She's normal, isn't she? She's not strange, right? .More nodding So, it's not nice to say to someone "You're gay" just to try to hurt their feelings, because there's nothing wrong with being gay. Okay? She nodded okay...as did my son, though I think this was thoroughly lost on him. They went back to their Eggos & I went to find myself a Valium.

Karate Kid

I feel traumatized! All of this because of a playground bully....and she was only 2 years-old!!!

I'm looking into turning my children into full-fledged "Karate Kids"! My daughter will start preschool in January, so I have a few months to prep her. My son will follow suit next year. Neither of my kids are overly aggressive, rather they are quite the opposite. Oh sure, they'll fight with eachother, but they've never raised a hand to another child. We've taught them that hitting/pinching/punching/biting/etc is NOT okay, and they seem to have accepted that.

Fast forward to today, and I wish I would have taught them karate! They were both victims of a 2-year-old bully. SHE DREW BLOOD...LITERALLY! Now I'm sure her intention wasn't to lacerate their flesh, but that's exactly what she did. Both my children have claw marks on their cheeks which I tenderly cleansed & rubbed with an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. So who's fault was it?

1. The mother's fault? Well, she was truly mortified by the whole ordeal, apologizing profusely & administering lectures & time-outs to her daughter.
2. The monsterous child's fault? Hmmmm...she's only 2. Plus, she didn't have fiery demonic eyes which screamed "Spawn of Satan".
3. My childrens' fault? Should they have defended themselves better? But they're so gentle by nature.
4. My fault? I've never really taught them to fight back. I always try to instill a sense of compassion, forgiveness & understanding.

So here I am, trying to figure this all out. How will I handle this when my children are off to school? Most likely with antacids for the ulcers I'm likely to develop...no doubt!

I suppose my first step will be to treat them both to some s'mores after their nap, after which I'll take them to their first karate lesson!

Shop till you drop...

Once upon a time, the phrase pointed to an abundantly successful marathon shopping spree. Nowadays, "shop till you drop" often describes a shopping trip wherein I haul my two toddlers along in our double-stroller, sweat myself into a frenzy while trying to cram three hours worth of shopping & browsing into thirty minutes.

Motherhood is rich with rewards, but the one thing I was never warned of was the fact that shopping would never be the same. For example, I never counted on becoming so familiar with wheelchair accessible change rooms. I mean, in the past, there was never any need for me to enter one. That was then. Now, shop clerks have little choice but to automatically show me into one of those spacious cubicles in order to accommodate my children in their enormous stroller. Once inside, I pull out the lollipops & the race is on.

Before the finger wagging begins, let me explain the lollipops. Though I realize that they provide no nutritional value whatsoever, while inviting nasty bacteria causing cavities, they are my saving grace in the change room. Lollipops buy me close to twenty minutes of nearly uninterrupted shopping time. Plus, my children are great brushers - twice a day, using the 45-second tooth brushing rule. But I digress...

Today, my son's sucker of choice was apple-green, while my daughter gave preference to cherry-red. With no time to waste, I began whipping clothing off the hangers with lightening speed. I usually get through the change room experience without a hitch, but today proved to be a tad more challenging. You see, my daughter has recently learned about "boobies", and she can't help but point them out at every turn. As I pulled a tank top over my head, my child decides to inform the entire change room population that "look look, mommy's boobies are outside the shirt". Ehem. To add insult to injury, when an innocent shopper attempted to make her way into our already occupied wheelchair accessible change room, my ever-helpful daughter alerts her to our presence, "EXCUSE ME BUT THIS IS OUR PLACE...AND MOMMY'S BOOBIES ARE OUT...OKAY???". Okay. Ehem.

I bought the tank top and left.

Does the tank top fit properly? I'm not quite certain. Instead of focusing on fit & style, I was more focused on shushing my daughter, keeping my son from sticking his green sucker on the change room mirror, breaking up a hair-pulling/nose-punching fight between my two children, and exiting the department store before someone called security on us.

Shop till you drop...truer than ever!!!

The circle...

Every so often, it happens - and boy oh boy does it ever sting! I'm talking about life...when it hits you...

The children & I have a decent morning routine going: after breakfast we head out for a half hour walk, stop off at a nearby park, then make the trek back home. All of this is made easier thanks to my Graco tandem stroller. It's a place to store a backpack filled with treats & juice, hold my cellphone, some sweaters, wipes, and (of course)transport the wee ones.

Eliana & Massimo sit in their stroller, happy as can be, watching the world go by while snacking on goldfish crackers. As for me, I consider it one of the more pleasant forms of cardio, rarely giving much thought to the act of pushing my kiddies around...that is...until today.

We made our way toward the library, and in the distance I could see a woman pushing an elderly gentleman in a wheelchair. As we approached them, she shifted to the side in order to make room on the sidewalk. Once we were face to face, my daughter, ever the friendly chatterbox, bellowed out her morning greeting, "HELLO, I AM GOING TO THE PARK!". The gentleman, slightly hunched & with a soft,wrinkled smile said, "AREN'T YOU LUCKY!" She then asked him where he was off to... and he informed us that his daughter was taking him out for a stroll as well. His eyes scanned the scene & I'm almost certain that I saw a glimpse of nostalgia in his watery gaze.

That's when it happened: Life - it hit me in the face.

You see it, don't you? I'm pushing my children around in a stroller - and this gentleman is being pushed around in his "stroller" by his own child. This routine act of taking my children out for a walk - to the park - to the library - to a pond to feed the ducklings - it's part of a circle... Perhaps, one day, the roles will shift & we will have reached the other side of the circle, and they will be taking me out for a stroll - to the park - to the library - to the pond to feed the ducklings. Wow!

I can only hope that in the distant future, my babies have some memory of the stroll, that breezy spring morning in May, when I stopped to pick a stem of lilacs for my little girl & a maple leaf for my baby boy. And perhaps they will have a sense of the immeasurable amount of love I had in my heart for them at that very moment. Then, when I'm older, greyer, slightly hunched over with a soft, wrinkled smile, perhaps the memory of that May morning will entice them to head out for another stroll with me.